


Go on believe her when she tells you (nothing's wrong)

by pendatol



Series: Close your eyes and think of me [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Gen, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Sexual Harassment, it's not bleak though I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28394985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendatol/pseuds/pendatol
Summary: Following Santana's outing on state television, she has a second unpleasant encounter with Josh Coleman in the hallway and Puck intervenes. Reluctant as they both might be, it leads to a mutual understanding between the two.Pucktana friendship with side Brittana, taking place at some point after 3x07.
Relationships: Santana Lopez & Noah Puckerman, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Series: Close your eyes and think of me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046581
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Go on believe her when she tells you (nothing's wrong)

**Author's Note:**

> While I don't think it's prominent enough to warrant an archive warning, please be advised that the story starts out with a scene of sexual harassment that's discussed throughout, as well as some non-graphic violence. Content warning for these topics as well as homophobia and homophobic language used.

“Hey, Lopez. There you are.”

Santana recognizes the voice in the same way she can identify all of Lima's sleazebags based on a few words alone. It's not even so much the words they say but the way they say them, like the world should stand in awe whenever they decide to open their mouths and throw up some garbage that no one actually cares about.

It's not until she looks up that she realizes she's met this particular sleazebag before.

It’s getting late in the afternoon at McKinley High. Only a few students are still at the school, mostly those involved in athletics or other extracurriculars. Santana's just finished Cheerios practice and her weekly meeting with Coach and Becky. She came to her locker to pack up for the day and head home, not expecting to meet anyone in the hallway.

But here he is, Josh whatever his name was, once again wearing his rugby letterman - as if anyone cares about the sport. Santana can’t remember the last time they cheered for the rugby team, if ever. But here they are, Josh and four of what Santana presumes to be his fellow rugby players. She rolls her eyes at the mere sight of them. Why do a bunch of sophomores think they run the school? Typical, small boys with big egos and something to prove.

“Where are the other lezbos? I was just telling my boys about them, shame you didn’t bring your little girl gang.”

He’s chewing gum and leaning into the lockers. He probably thinks it makes him look cool but it only makes him seem even more immature in Santana’s eyes. His lackeys are grinning at her in anticipation and her disgust grows.

“No, but I see you brought yours,” Santana snipes and she’s already looking back towards her locker, not even dignifying them with any more of her attention.

She hears one of them snarl. “Dude, are you gonna let her talk to us like that?”

Before Santana can retort, her books are knocked out of her arms and landing on the floor in a loud thud.

She groans and looks up the guys, throwing them one of signature glares. Josh is smirking at her and it makes her even more infuriated.

“You’d better pick those up right about now,” Santana warns.

None of them makes any move to pick her stuff up. Instead, Josh leers at her, making a point of looking her over. He’s staring right at her chest as he talks. “I have a better idea, why don’t pick them up yourself? I bet you look great on your knees.”

His cronies snicker as if that was such a clever response. Anger flares within Santana and she’s about ready to show them some Lima Heights hospitality before the rational part of her brain stops her. She notes that she’s only one small cheerleader against five rugby players. It might be a useless sport but what the idiots lack in brain they seem to make up for in brawn.

“Really, is that the best you can come up with?” Santana bites back, crossing her arms. “Must be desperate if that’s the only way you can get a girl on her knees for you. Or is that why you’re here, looking for tips on how to talk to women? Lesson one: don't.”

Josh is undeterred. “See boys, I told you we have a dyke on our hands,” he laughs with the other guys before turning back to her. “Don’t worry babe, my offer to straighten you out still stands.”

Before Santana knows it, his hands are on her hips and thighs and all the places they have no right to be. Snixx really does come out this time around and she pushes him away with all she has.

“Get the fuck off me, you miscreant!”

Josh is so taken aback that he lands in the arms of one of his thugs. His disorientation doesn’t last long: he looks pissed as he bounces back and shoves Santana with much more strength than what she could muster. She lands in a painful crash, her own locker’s door biting into her shoulder as her head collides with the metal. The clinging noise rings in her ears and the impact knocks the wind out of her lungs.

She flashes back to landing in the lockers when she picked a fight with Zizes last year. Now, Santana's faced with another battle she couldn’t possibly win but without the crowd of students flowing in the hallway, or the knowledge that Zizes wouldn’t actually destroy her. As she opens her eyes and sees Josh the sophomore rugby captain approach her, Santana knows can’t say the same of him.

“Not so brave now, are we?” he sneers, trapping her between his own body and the lockers. He shuts Santana’s locker and puts his arms on either side of her head. He's pressing into her, making Santana panic with the way his body is covering hers. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you a real good time. You won’t want to be with anyone else once I show you what you’re missing out on.”

Santana tries to push him away but he's so heavy and it feels useless so she begins scratching. She hears one of the guys whistle just as Josh leans into her neck and begins kissing her. The feeling of his wet lips on her skin switches something in Santana’s brain and she screeches.

She’s faintly aware of telling him ‘no’ and to fuck right off, but then Josh’s hand is under her top in one moment and he’s gone entirely in the next, his body disappearing in a flash. Santana’s trying to make sense of the events unfolding as adrenaline rushes through her veins. As she’s taking her first step away from the lockers she considers, for the first time, just how hard she hit her head when the asshole shoved her. Santana feels dizzy and it takes a moment to focus her eyes on the scene before her.

The jocks are all one big pile so she doesn’t immediately recognize Puck. He shoves them off and wipes his knuckles into his shirt. Santana sees angry red and her gaze shifts to the puddle on the floor that is Josh Coleman.

“What the fuck, dude?!” one of the guys screams out Puck. They’re trying to help Josh stand but he seems out of it, his face a bloody mess.

“What, you want a taste of my fist, too? Come at me!” Puck yells back and puffs out his chest. If Santana didn’t have more pressing concerns, she’d roll her eyes at the gesture.

“Let’s go, this is crazy! She’s not worth it,” the jocks manage to get Josh on his feet and scatter, hurrying down the hallway like a bunch of terrified little kids.

“That’s what I thought!” Puck screams after them. He turns to face Santana and his face morphs into something much softer. Santana recognizes it as concern, an emotion so foreign on Puck’s face it makes her even dizzier.

“You okay there?” he asks and takes her forearm. Santana didn’t even realize she has slumped back into the lockers. Her legs feel weak and she hates that she's not standing up straight.

She shoves Puck’s hand away. “Get off, Puckerman. I’m fine.”

Santana doesn’t feel half as strong as her voice wants her to be. She’s trying to get her heart to _not_ want to jump out of her chest.

Puck gathers her books from the floor. Santana’s completely forgotten about the stupid things.

“Here,” he hands her the discarded books. Santana shoves them all into her locker, no longer concerned with what it was she originally wanted to collect. She feels a desperate need to get the hell away from the halls of McKinley as soon as possible.

“Want me to drive you home?” Puck asks and the tone of his voice causes an irrational flare of anger in Santana.

“I’m good,” she spats and turns on her heels, the sudden movement making her nauseous as she stumbles.

“Hey, wait up,” he yells as he follows her. Puck is by her side; he doesn’t try to steady her but his hands are ready to hold on if Santana wants them to. “Wanna see the nurse or something?”

“It’s past four, the nurse is long gone,” Santana rolls her eyes. “I’m fine, stop making a fucking fuss.”

Santana’s determined to get rid of Puck. If only she could get to her car and get away from the hallway, from it all.

“You’re not looking so hot. Did he like, hit you on the head?” Puck’s previous fury is back and he looks about ready to run after the guys and track them down. He curses under his breath. “I swear, the pathetic wussies. Jumping a girl like that. Bet they’d like a visit from the football team.”

“Oh my god, just stop,” Santana snaps at him. “Don’t turn this into a pissing contest. You beat up a sophomore, congrats on that, job well done. Nothing more to do or see here.”

Puck looks at her dumbfounded. With every new expression Santana is getting, she's more and more annoyed. Figures Puckerman would start giving a shit today of all days.

“Wait, you can’t be mad at me for beating him up,” Puck protests, standing in front of Santana and blocking her way. “That’s so not fair. What the fuck was I supposed to do, let him do whatever he wanted with you? His friends, too? Huh?”

He’s towering over her and suddenly, Santana's acutely aware that she's never been so intimidated by Puck. His words fill up the empty space she was left with the moment Josh put his hands on her. She hates him and his stupid friends and she hates Puck for not letting it go. She hates Finn because this was all his fault and fucking Salazar, who ruined her life without even knowing her, without even caring. And dammit, before Santana knows it she’s finding it hard to breathe and she desperately wants to cry.

Puck might not be as dumb as he looks because his eyes widen and he gets out of Santana’s way. “Shit, come on, Santana, I just meant that he had it coming. I’ve got your back, don’t worry.”

He puts a tentative hand on her shoulder but Santana shakes him off so violently she almost stumbles again. “Leave me the fuck alone, Puck.”

She’s marching on but Puck catches up with her once again.

“Hey, wait. Come on, Lopez, don’t be stupid, at least let me drive you home. You can pick your car up tomorrow.”

Santana resents his implication that she needs help getting home but accepts the offer. The alternative is arguing with Puckerman and she definitely doesn’t feel emotionally strong enough to do that. All that matters is getting home.

The car ride is quiet. She catches his glances but ignores them and Puck knows better than to press. That’s the one thing she’s always appreciated about him, back when they were constantly hooking up: Puck was never one to want to discuss _feelings_ and stuff. He was stupid enough to step into it in the hallway but his current silence lets Santana believe that he’ll let it go.

Puck knows where to go without Santana directing him; he’s been over plenty of times before. When they get to her house, Santana grabs her bag and leaves the car.

Before she can slam the door, Puck calls after her. “Santana, wait!”

Maybe she assumed Puck would let it go too soon. Way to give people credit when they don’t deserve it.

She looks back at him. “What?”

He hesitates. Santana can practically see the gears turning in his head. His concentration face is not one people see too often but Santana knows it all too well.

She’s glad that when he does speak, it’s a simple sentence. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Okay,” Santana mutters. “Sure.”

She closes the car door and doesn’t look back.

* * *

Santana looks in the bathroom mirror and strains to see the red mark the locker door left on her shoulder blade. She winces when the shower’s hot water hits her skin but it’s all forgotten when she gets disoriented and almost trips.

Fuck. This was the last thing she needed.

She knows it’s probably not a concussion; being the daughter of a doctor meant that she's had plenty of lectures about symptoms of just about anything and everything.

Brittany calls her before going to bed and Santana listens as she goes on about her family's plans for Christmas. Or rather, she’s trying to listen, but it’s hard to push the afternoon’s events out of her mind, try as she might. But having Brittany on the other end of the phone, even as she’s talking about what to get for her morbidly obese cat, it helps ground Santana. The comfort of her bed is nothing compared to the way Britt’s voice is animatedly talking about anything and everything. Santana closes her eyes and thinks that her girlfriend really is the only good thing in this miserable, stinking world.

Just as Britt is telling her about a Scientology magazine subscription, Santana’s phone pings.

“Hold on, I just got a text.”

_“If that’s Lord Tubbington, tell him you won’t be paying for his late fees.”_

Santana chuckles. “Alright, Britt, sure.”

But when Santana checks her messages, it’s - shockingly - not from her girlfriend’s cat. Puck’s name lights up her phone.

 _Wazzup  
_ _All good?_

Santana stares at the phone, perhaps for a beat too long because she barely notices Brittany’s voice coming from the speakers.

_“Santana, you there? Who is it?”_

“Yeah, I’m good. It’s nothing important.”

They talk a bit more but they soon hang up and say their goodbyes. Santana’s staring up at her ceiling, finding irony in the fact that she’s never given a Puckerman text this much thought. Used to be, when he texted her ‘wazzup’ it was a simple booty call. When did things get turned around so much?

Just as she considers turning her phone off for the night, Santana gets another text.

_Lopez??!! Yo its rude not to text back_

Santana groans and begins typing.

_Piss off Fuckerman_

Her phone lights up a minute later.

 _Good 2 know ya still have the attitude_ _  
_ _What time do ya wanna be picked up?_

She doesn’t reply immediately. Santana considers all her options before finally caving in and texting Puck.

_7am sharp. Don’t be late, I have Cheerios_

* * *

Santana knows she should be grateful for a fair few things.

Number one: Puck picks her up in the morning, just like he promised he would.

Her parents question where her car is but she tells them some small lie about it not working properly, hence Puck giving her a ride. They make her promise she’ll take it to Hummel’s shop after school.

Number two: Puck’s never on time, for anything. If there is such a person who hates mornings even more than Santana does, it’s Puck. And yet, he picks her up at seven so she can make it to morning Cheerios practice.

The car ride is as quiet as yesterday’s was. Santana’s about to be grateful for a third thing, the silence, and even considers actually expressing that gratitude when they get to the parking lot, but that’s when Puck chooses to ruin it.

“Before you go,” Puck says as he parks the car. “Wanna talk a bit about what went down yesterday?”

Santana sighs. “Really, Puck? What makes you think I’m the kind of person who likes talking about that kind of crap?”

Puck shrugs his shoulders. “It’s not like I wanna be your therapist or shit like that. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Santana bites her lip. She can’t find it in herself to be mad at him for that, even if she feels like she’d rather drink bleach than talk to Puck about this.

“I’m good,” she replies. “Can we leave it at that? Nothing happened so no need to dwell.”

Puck nods but he’s never been good at hiding his feelings. Santana can tell he’s holding himself back.

“Will you at least tell me if any of the little shits bother you again?”

The scoff Santana lets out is not entirely voluntary, but she nods her head regardless. “Sure. If I need a knight with a mohawk you'll be my number one choice.”

Santana opens the car door but before she leaves, she turns back to Puck. “Don’t go around blabbing about this, okay? No need for the whole fucking school to gossip about you beating up sophomores.”

Puck looks about to protest for a second but ends up agreeing anyway.

Santana leaves him behind, fully intent on going about her day as normal. She meets Brittany at the locker room, as she usually does, and is grateful to hug her. It feels like an eternity since they hugged like this. As Brittany’s hand touches her shoulder, though, Santana winces. Brittany notices, because of course she does. There’s nothing in this world Brittany wouldn’t notice about her.

“What’s wrong?” the concern in Britt’s voice hurts more than Santana’s shoulder ever could. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m good,” Santana gives her half a smile. “Don’t worry, just bumped my shoulder against the bed this morning.”

Brittany sees right through the lie. Santana never understood how anyone could ever call her stupid; if anything, Brittany is the most perceptive person she’s ever known. Who cares about alluvial plains and epic poetry when you could see the world exactly as Brittany does.

“Hey, it’s okay, you can tell me,” Brittany puts a reassuring hand on her arm and it feels so good to have her skin connect with Santana’s that she just wants to hug her again. Santana’s about to reach for Britt’s shoulders when something changes in her girlfriend's eyes. “Uhm, Santana, what’s that?”

She points to Santana’s neck. Santana’s hand flies to the spot but she can’t feel anything wrong. “What?”

Brittany furrows her eyebrows and speaks quietly. “I don’t remember giving you that hickey.”

Santana’s eyes widen in a sudden and horrifying realization.

“Crap,” she breathes, and the next second she’s rushing to the bathroom. There are a couple of other Cheerios in there but she orders them out and they leave immediately. No one dares cross the captain.

Brittany follows her and catches up just as Santana’s staring down her own reflection. She mentally kicks herself for being so absentminded in the morning that she somehow missed the ugly hickey that formed on her neck. She pulls at the skin, wishing she could scratch it out.

“Fuck, I’m going to need a shitton of foundation for this,” Santana mutters under her breath. She glances at Brittany in the mirror, standing just behind her with a hurt look on her face. Santana’s expression softens: she has to clear this up. So much for not telling anyone.

But this is Brittany, and she never could keep anything from her, anyway.

“Britt…”

“Santana, what happened?”

There’s no accusation in her voice and Santana is eternally grateful for that. At least Brittany doesn’t think she cheated on her.

Santana sighs and lowers her head in defeat. She hates the way her own voice trembles as she speaks.

“Brittany, I have to tell you something.”

* * *

Puck is at his locker, getting his stuff for second period when a wild Brittany appears.

“Noah Puckerman!” she greets him, stopping right in front of him with her bag in hand.

“Hey chica,” Puck glances at her. “What’s up?”

“I’m glad I could find you, I have something very important to tell you.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve heard about your good deed, so I wanted to give you this,” Brittany rummages around in her bag and pulls out an open and half-empty bag of beef jerky. She beams at him as she hands it to Puck.

“Uhm, thanks,” Puck eyes his gift. “I appreciate it, but I don’t think this is kosher.”

“Oh, sorry,” Brit’s taking it back and stuffing it in her bag. “This was all I could find in my locker. Is it, like, a four-leaf clover you want? I can ask my Leprechaun. Santana told me not to trust him because he did trick me, but Santana also said not to make a big deal of this and I think you and I both know it is a big deal, so, there’s that.”

Puck can’t fully process why on Earth Brittany’s suddenly talking about Leprechauns before what she said about Santana hits him.

“So you think it’s a big deal, too?”

“Of course!” Brittany exclaims. She leans closer to Puck and lowers her voice. “I respect Santana not wanting people to know, but I’m totally glad you punched the guy. When I get home, I’m going to ask Lord Tubbington for ideas on how to get back at the rugby team. Normally I wouldn’t encourage his more sadistic tendencies but I think this is the one occasion when his way of dealing with problems would be the best choice.”

Puck nods along. He’s heard Brittany go on about her cat enough times to not even bat an eyelash at whatever she’s saying about him, but he definitely agrees that the puny little rugby players got off easy. He didn’t even get to give the others a piece of his mind and that just isn't right. In his book, guys who stand by as their asshole friend assaults a girl are almost as bad as the asshole himself.

“Anyway,” Brittany leans back and goes for her bag again. “It is my honor as student body president to declare you McKinley High’s newest unicorn.”

Puck can barely believe his eyes when Brittany pulls out a unicorn headband. Sure, he’s seen her wear it before, but to have her hand it to him, in the middle of the hallway…

“Oh, wow,” is all Puck can say as Brittany grins at him and motions for him to grab the headband. “Is it okay if I don’t, like, put it on right now?”

Brittany looks saddened by that and it’s enough to make Puck regret what he said. “But people need to know you’ve done a good deed, even though they can’t know what it was.”

She pouts and Puck relents. Fuck it, he’s been in Glee Club for two years now and has worn plenty of ridiculous things over the years. He puts the headband on and it sits comfortably on his mohawk.

“Yayy,” Brittany claps and gives him a quick hug. “It’s your choice when you want to wear it but I think you should make it a part of your look. It looks really good on you and you shouldn’t forget that what you did was magical.”

“Thanks, Britt,” Puck smiles at her and gives a glare to a random guy who’s passing them by and looking at his horn funny.

Brittany turns on her heels to leave but Puck calls after her. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“No, it doesn’t make your poop rainbow-coloured.”

“No, I mean, about Santana,” Puck says and something changes in Brittany’s expression. “Why doesn’t she want people to know? Those guys are jerks and they deserve… I don’t know, some kind of punishment. At the very least, for people to know to avoid them.”

Brittany gives him another smile, a sad and knowing one this time. “Yeah, but Santana deserves peace. She’s already been dealing with a lot so the last thing she needs is for people to know some guys bothered her for being a lesbian.”

That doesn’t answer Puck’s question, though it does give him a previously unknown detail. So those assholes know she’s gay and came onto her anyway. Hell, came onto her _because_ of that for all he knows.

“Yeah, no, I agree, she didn’t deserve that but that’s my point! People would stick up for her, why doesn’t she want that?”

“The Glee Club would, yeah, and maybe a few others. But we’re unicorns in a school full of nasty crocodiles, Puck. They smell weakness and attack without thinking. Look what happened to Kurt.”

He frowns. “That was last year. Besides, it’s different.”

Brittany tilts her head. “How come?”

Puck doesn’t know how to answer that. The difference feels so obvious to him but the more he thinks about how to explain it the less he comes up with. “Kurt’s a dude and like… Santana doesn’t take anyone’s shit. And, I don’t know, okay? It just is. Plus, Santana would rip any crocodile’s head off.”

Brittany nods fervently. “You’re right about that. Santana’s strong but she doesn’t see it that way. She thinks people attacking her is somehow her fault, as if being into ladies wasn’t totally awesome of her. People knowing about jerks like Josh would only make her feel smaller. The only way she can feel strong now is if she pretends it’s okay.”

Something within Puck aches at hearing those words. “But it’s not.”

Britt gives him another sad smile. “No, it’s not. But this is what she needs now and we need to respect that, even if we don’t fully understand it.”

Puck considers her words. What Brittany’s saying makes a surprising amount of sense and he finds himself fascinated by how well she can articulate what Santana’s feeling and what she needs.

“Okay,” he nods. “I mean, I wasn’t gonna talk anyway, but… thanks for that, Brittany. And the headband.”

He dips his head in appreciation and Brittany boops his horn.

* * *

Puck ends up wearing the unicorn headband the whole day. He gets a few funny looks and some people even give him their unwanted opinions but he doesn’t care. It makes him feel like a member of some elite club that only Brittany is truly aware of. He wears it with as much pride as the bruises on his knuckles.

Everyone has already seen him wear it so the Glee Club members don’t comment on it as he enters the choir room. Brittany and Santana are sitting together and chatting about something, and Santana narrows her eyes at him when she sees the horn. Her face softens when Brittany gives Puck a thumbs up and gestures at the headband.

“Alright, everyone, let’s continue with Tom Jones week,” Mr Schue exclaims once everyone arrives. He claps his hands and looks at them expectantly. “Has anyone managed to come up with anything?”

“Mr Schue, why are we doing this again?” Sam sighs. “He’s just some random English dude.”

“Well, actually, Tom Jones is Welsh. See, there’s a difference. Rory knows what I’m talking about,” Rachel chimes in.

Rory, for his part, looks uncomfortable with the attention. “Uh, no, leave me out of that conversation.”

“Guys, let’s not get bogged down in the details,” Mr Schue says. “Come on, what do you have for me?”

Before anyone can even open their mouths, Principal Figgins marches into the choir room with none other than Josh Coleman in tow. His head is hanging low but Puck can guess at the mess he hides beneath.

“William, I need to interrupt your New Directions Glee session,” Figgins declares.

Mr Schue is surprised by the visit. “Uhm, yes, of course. What is it, Principal?”

“This young man here,” Figgins gestures at the rugby player behind him. “Has come to my office to report a physical assault committed by one Noah Puckerman.”

There are a few gasps around the choir room. Puck clenches his fist when Coleman glances up at him and gives the tiniest of smirks. At least his face really is fucked up and Puck takes satisfaction in the pain he feels in his hand - it reminds him of how he’s punched that smirk off before. Coleman sports a black eye and split lip with deep scratch marks lining down his face. That last part was definitely not Puck’s doing but it makes him swell with even more pride. At least Santana got back at him somehow.

“Dude, is that true?” Puck can hear Finn’s voice coming from his right. But Puck glances left instead, catching Santana turn her head from the corner of his eye. She turns away so quickly her ponytail bounces.

“Noah, what do you have to say for yourself?” Mr Schue asks him and there’s an edge to his voice. Puck can’t quite place it. Is he mad? Is he disappointed?

Puck catches Brittany grab Santana’s hand and can see even from where he’s sitting how hard Santana squeezes it.

“Here for round two, Coleman?” Puck stares him down as he stands up.

“Puck!” Mr Schue is definitely mad now. Probably disappointed, too. “What is the meaning of this? Did you really hit him?”

“He had it coming,” Puck huffs.

“Mr Puckerman, may I remind you that you’re walking on very thin ice here,” Figgins tells him. “I have four other students corroborating Mr Coleman’s story that you jumped him yesterday afternoon and had to be pulled off to stop you from assaulting him.”

Puck scoffs and Mr Schue gives him a stern look.

“Puck, this is serious business. Why would you do something like that?”

“Because,” Puck begins with a vehemency he soon realizes he can’t follow up on. He feels the headband cling to his skin as he remembers his conversation with Brittany. “Because…”

“I told you, Principal Figgins, he’s an animal,” Coleman finally speaks.

To Puck’s surprise, it’s Mercedes who first reacts. “Wait, hold on a second. Aren’t you the creep who was bothering Santana the other day?”

The girls start murmuring in agreement and Mr Schue’s face is clouded by confusion. Puck looks around to see all the reactions: Santana looks as if she’s been turned into a statue, her entire body tensing up and Brittany whispers something in her ear. Everyone else is waiting for Puck to say something. Everyone, except for Quinn, who glances between Santana and him a few times before her gaze settles on Puck. She draws in a sharp breath and Puck can tell that she’s figured it out. Of course she would, Quinn freaking Fabray.

“Santana, is that true?” Mr Schue asks her but Santana stares dead ahead, leaving him without an answer. “Puck, is that why you attacked this boy?”

Puck takes a step forward, moving away from the chairs. There isn’t an ending to this story that doesn’t involve him going to the principal’s office, anyway.

“Doesn’t matter why I did it, does it?” he scoffs.

“Considering the severity of Mr Coleman’s injuries, I have to say you are right in that assumption, Mr Puckerman,” Figgins says. “I’d like you to come to my office. This is a very serious offence so you leave me no choice but to expel you effective immediately. I’m also going to have to report this to the authorities.”

Noises of loud protest come from behind Puck like a wave, yet one voice stands out. Santana shoots out of her chair and finds her voice for the first time since Figgins and Coleman entered the choir room. “No!” she shouts and all heads turn to look at her. “No, you can’t do that! Puck was just defending me, you can’t expel him for that!”

Puck stares at her but she’s refusing to look in his direction. Santana looks like she’s regretting her words and breathes erratically, her hand still in Brittany’s.

“I am going to need you to elaborate on that, Ms Lopez,” Figgins says.

A few people call Santana’s name: among them are Mercedes, who’s sitting on her opposite side; Rachel, who’s on the side of the choir room but looking heavy with anticipation; and Mr Schue, who’s desperate for an answer as to what really happened.

“I just…” Santana stumbles on her words. She bites down on her lip and removes her hand from Brittany’s, crossing her arms. “He just shoved me, is all.”

“Santana, is that it?” Mr Schue’s asking her again, once again without hope of a proper reply.

“I didn’t even do anything,” Coleman says, holding his hands up in defence.

Figgins is starting again on how that’s not a good enough reason for Puck to punch Coleman and he mentions the possibility of expulsion, again, and something in Puck snaps. Not because he’s threatened with the possibility of not getting to graduate despite being so close now - okay, that too. He really is looking forward to wearing the stupid hat and gown. But what really makes him snap is the way Santana looks smaller than he’s ever seen her. The way Mercedes said Coleman has bothered Santana before. The way the little asshole is smirking because he thinks no one can see but Puck. It’s the way it implies that he’s gonna get away with it all. It’s the way Brittany said Santana wanted to pretend this was all okay, somehow.

So Puck snaps and breaks his word. He negates on his promise to both Brittany and Santana because whatever is going down in this choir room is definitely not okay.

“Bullshit!” he shouts and the attention of the room is his again. “He was all up on her even when she told him to stop, with his idiot friends cheering on. He assaulted her in _your_ school and you’re willing to take his word!”

The air in the room shifts and Puck can feel a dozen pairs of eyes shifting between himself, Santana and Coleman.

“Mr Coleman,” Figgins’s voice is as monotone as ever but Puck can hear the shock hidden underneath. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

He seems to consider his options and Puck readies himself to refute any bullshit he comes up with. He expects Coleman to deny it all but he shakes his head and scoffs. “Whatever. She was practically begging for it, okay? And it’s not me who busted someone’s face up.”

Puck’s response comes before anyone can react to what Coleman said. “You know who begged for it? Your mom.”

It’s a childish comeback and they all know it; except, everyone at McKinley knows that Noah Puckerman is the one person who should be believed with a claim like that. He hasn’t actually slept with Coleman’s mom - at least, he’s pretty sure he hasn’t - but that doesn’t matter. Not when it’s perfectly plausible that he has and not when it makes Coleman _fume_ and lounge at him.

“You son of a bitch,” he screams and has to be stopped by Mr Schue and a quick-on-his-feet Sam.

“Not so tough now, huh, Coleman?” Puck grins.

Coleman snarls but doesn’t fight Mr Schue and Sam. Based on his expression, he’s realized just how screwed he is by now.

“Santana,” Mr Schue attempts, once again, to talk to her. “Is that true?”

All eyes are on her now as she finally looks at the teacher and nods. “Uh, yeah. What Puck said. About Coleman, I mean. He’s telling the truth.”

Coleman scoffs, his attention shifting from glaring at Puck to looking Santana up and down. “That’s what you say now because you’re trying to save your boy, but we both know you wanted it. No shame in admitting it, sweetheart.”

The Glee Club erupts as a collective. Mr Schue is trying to keep them under control but Puck hears Mercedes say “Oh no, you didn’t”, Quinn mutter something about animals and Rachel is holding Finn back from launching at him. As for Santana, it’s the last straw.

“Alright, that’s it, it’s my turn to bust your face up, you sorry-ass piece of shit _pendejo_ ,” Santana yells and is held back by Brittany grabbing her waist and Sam blocking her way. For his part, Sam throws a furious glare at Coleman and Puck figures the only reason he isn’t going after the jerk himself is that his face is already messed up. But Santana - Santana has that fire in her eyes again and Puck can’t help but grin, despite the circumstances, because _this_ is the Lopez he knows.

Mr Schue looks to Figgins. “I think it’s best if we all go to your office and discuss this.”

Figgins sighs. “Agreed. I’m going to send for Coach Sylvester and Coach Munoz as well.”

“Guess we’re tabling Tom Jones after all,” Puck mutters under his breath and follows the others out of the choir room.

* * *

Santana drops down next to him on the chairs outside the principal’s office. Her shoulders slump as she lets out a heavy sigh.

Neither of them say anything for a while. They can still hear Coach Sylvester’s yelling coming from the office, with the occasional interjection from Coach Munoz and Mr Schue. Coleman, still in the office, hasn’t said anything since Munoz told him to shut up and let him handle it. Not that there was much to handle after the other rugby lackeys sheepishly admitted that Santana and Puck were telling the truth about yesterday’s events.

“I thought I’ve seen what Coach Sylvester’s fury looks like,” Puck finally says. “But this is something else.”

Santana shrugs. “She likes to act all self-righteous and protective every now and then. She thinks it makes up for all the shit she puts us through.”

He nods. “So, what now?”

“Now you have two weeks off,” Santana says. “Better suspension than expulsion, I guess.”

“True, I guess,” Puck chuckles but it’s humourless.

Santana looks at him and her face softens for the first time since Figgins and Coleman marched into the choir room a few hours earlier. “I’m sorry about that, Puck. You shouldn’t have been suspended.”

“Well,” it’s Puck’s turn to shrug. “I guess I did beat him up pretty bad.”

“No complaints from me.”

Puck lets that linger before he speaks again. “He’s still getting off easy.”

Santana’s laugh is low and bitter. “Yeah, well, who would have thought. Whatever, I don’t care if he’s not getting expelled, as long as he stays the fuck away.”

“Oh, trust me, he will,” Puck reassures her. “I’d say I’ll make sure of that but I’m pretty sure it was your coach threatening to castrate him that did the job.”

Santana nods but her lips are tight and her face overtaken by something… solemn.

“Hey, listen,” Puck starts, not quite sure how to continue his sentence. Santana looks at him expectantly. She’s never been known for her patience so he knows he’d better come up with something. “I’m sorry stuff’s gotten out of hand.”

She gives him a small smile. “It’s not like it’s your fault. Should have known the fucker would try to get you into trouble for rearranging his face. Guess he didn’t think anyone would believe me about what really happened.”

This causes an ache in Puck’s heart that he’s become familiar with over the last 24 hours. He hates that he has.

“You know that’s bullshit, right?” Puck asks, his voice rising inadvertently. “Fuck him for thinking he could mess with you and get away with it.”

The chuckle he gets from Santana feels much lighter than her previous one. “Damn, tell me how you really feel.”

“I’m serious, Santana,” Puck continues. “You deserve better than scum like Coleman bothering you. Anyone in Glee Club would have done the same in my position and beat the shit out of him before he ever gets to mess with you again.”

Something changes in Santana’s expression and she’s searching his eyes before speaking. “I doubt Berry’s twig vegan arms could have punched him like you did. Or Lady Hummel’s, for that matter. But I get your point, Puckerman.”

“Yeah. I mean it, too. That lady week music was kind of shit but Finn was right. We’ve got your back, girl, you should know that.”

“Alright, alright,” Santana’s sounding irritated now. “Geez, don’t get sappy on me. Not you, too, who else I’ll have left to make fun of people for doing exactly this kind of shit.”

Puck grins at her. “Don’t worry, I won’t get sappy. I just don’t want you to think stupid stuff like you’re alone or something. I think it’s awesome that you’re a lesbian and shit. To be honest, I think it makes you even hotter. But like, in a respectful way.”

The eyeroll he gets from Santana is all too familiar. “And there’s that signature Puckerman charm, finally. I was waiting for that.”

“Come on, Lopez, you know what I mean,” Santana raises an eyebrow and Puck presses on. “It’s awesome that you’re embracing yourself. That little thing we had going on was fun but I could tell you were never truly into it. Brittany makes you happy, though, and that’s cool. And whoever thinks otherwise can go fuck themselves.”

“Right,” Santana gives him a curt nod. “This is starting to sound an awful lot like the start of lady music week volume two and I’m telling you, I am not listening to you butcher Melissa Etheridge again.”

“How dare you,” Puck gasps. “That was a flawless performance and you know it.”

“Well, you always did think of your ‘performances’ as flawless even when there was a lot left to be desired,” she snickers.

Puck’s hand shoots to his chest in faux-offence. “You wound me, Lopez.”

They’re both grinning and it fills Puck with a special kind of warmth. He’s spent so much time looking at Santana as someone to hook up with: as someone too high maintenance to be his girlfriend but too hot to let go of completely. It’s only now, sitting in the cheap plastic chairs outside the principal’s office that he can finally put his finger on what it is he feels with Santana, what it is he wants.

“You’re like my bro,” he says, his voice back to its previous seriousness.

Puck wholeheartedly means it as a compliment but Santana’s face contorts in a grimace. “So if you can no longer fuck me I might as well be a dude to you?”

“What? No, that’s not what I said! Damn, I just meant…”

He knows Santana is most definitely not a dude because she’s still setting these invisible traps for him, waiting for him to mess up. She does prove she’s a friend, though, when she spares him from having to explain.

“Relax, Puck, you’re gonna pull a muscle thinking so hard,” she laughs. “For what it’s worth, you’re my… bro, too.”

Santana bumps him in the shoulder and Puck takes it as an encouragement to continue his previous line of thought.

“I really do want to support you, though. And I just got so mad when I heard you scream and saw that asshole pin you to the locker.”

He feels a familiar anger rise in him but concern overtakes it when he sees Santana wince and turn her head. “Hey, you okay? I didn’t mean…”

“No, it’s okay,” Santana turns back to him. “I mean, it’s not, but at least Coleman’s getting some kind of punishment. It might be a slap on the wrist compared to what Sue would do but at least it’s not nothing.”

“Yeah,” Puck nods, thinking back to his conversation with Brittany for the umpteenth time today. He decides to just go for it and ask Santana. “Why didn’t you report him right away? He was idiotic enough to try to come after me but that would have saved us the Glee Club interruption, at least.”

Santana draws in a sharp breath. She looks like she’s about to say something before resorting to a shrug of her shoulders.

Puck is not having it. “Come on, Santana, don’t be like that. I just want to know. Brittany said you just didn’t want people to know but that doesn’t make much sense. It’s not like you’ve done anything wrong.”

“Brittany, of course,” she lets out a frustrated sigh and buries her face in her hands before emerging and sitting up straight once again. “You really wanna know what it’s like, Puck?”

Santana’s question pierces through him, as do her deep brown eyes and it feels like she’s staring right into his soul. He swallows before giving her a firm nod. “Hell yeah. I want to know what’s up with you. So I can help.”

“As charming as your white knight shtick must be to freshmen and sophomores, this isn’t something you can help with. It’s just,” Santana sighs again. When she continues, her voice is much quieter, barely above a whisper. “I’m getting tired of people being all up in my business.”

Puck only has time to raise a confused eyebrow before Santana continues, much more animated this time around, her voice rising the more she speaks.

“Suddenly everyone is so freaking interested in my sexuality, like God, can’t they just stop? One moment it’s Finn outing me out of pure spite, then he’s saying it’s for my own good. Then the whole goddamn club is forcing their acceptance down my throat, even though I barely tolerate most of them and have an entire notebook filled with things I think they should change about themselves. But they’re still so aggressively okay with it, and the only person whose acceptance I would really need is…”

Santana falters, all her momentum gone as quickly as it came. She tenses before relaxing her muscles again and it almost looks as if she’s slumping in defeat. Puck thinks back to Mr Schue asking Santana about how coming out to her grandmother went. She had the same empty expression back then as she does now.

He instinctively puts a gentle hand on her shoulder and notes, with some triumph, that she doesn’t shake him off.

“Anyway,” Santana clears her throat. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

“Because I asked,” Puck simply states. “But I still don’t get it. What does that have to do with Coleman?”

Puck is as touched by Santana’s sudden burst of honesty as he’s taken aback by it, but he still can’t connect the dots between all that talk about Finn and the Glee Club and her abuela and what went down with Coleman.

“He’s just one of many to suddenly be oh so interested in me,” Santana says bitterly. “I’ve always been smoking hot so guys wanting to hit it is nothing new, don’t get me wrong.”

Puck can’t help but agree. After all, he, most famously of all, was hitting it for quite a while.

“It’s just what he said. About wanting to ‘straighten me out’, and truly believing I _wanted_ it,“ Santana’s disgust is evident in her voice and her face crunches up. “I guess part of me knew he was right, that people would believe him over me.”

The admission hits Puck like a slushie in the face. “What? Santana, you can’t be serious. Look at what happened in the choir room! As soon as you spoke up, the whole club was ready to jump him. Even Figgins looked like he believed you straight away and we all know how useless he usually is.”

Santana gives him a sad smile. “Yeah, I guess. But that’s Glee, you know? They’re losers but they’re _our_ losers. Who knows what the rest of the school will think. That I’m only with Brittany for attention and really did want Coleman.”

Puck wants to shake some sense into Santana. It’s making him so mad to hear her talk like this. To see Santana Lopez be this vulnerable at all is a privilege he knows not to squander, but he can’t help the pure anger he feels at her words. But then, something else comes, and before Puck can consider the possibility that it’s pity, for which Santana would slap the shit out of him, he recognizes it as sympathy.

“Who cares what those fuckers think,” he tells her, despite the pit in his stomach saying that they both do. They always have.

Santana seems to reach the same conclusion because her sad smile remains and she pats the hand that’s still resting on her shoulder.

They linger on this realization. Neither of them wants to admit it out loud but it’s a mutual understanding. Even after all these years at McKinley and only a matter of months away from graduation, they both know that reputation is everything. Maybe to Santana, it’s about proving something, or just maintaining her standing. Puck doesn’t know and doesn’t ask.

“I just don’t want people to use this against me,” Santana’s quiet admission comes after a few moments of silence. “Let them come at me for being a bitch, for wanting to be on top, whatever. But not because I dare to be with Brittany. Not because of my love for her.”

The weight of her words sits uncomfortably on Puck’s shoulders. He’s squirming under the realization of just how many times he’s made inappropriate jokes about Santana and Brittany, whistled as they made out even in sophomore year. He figures it’s not as bad as wanting to fuck someone straight, but it makes him feel guilty nonetheless.

Santana notices his discomfort. “Oh, please,” she begins in that beloved sardonic tone of hers but there’s honesty under it. “Don’t take that personally, Puck, this isn’t about you. I don’t care about your lesbian jokes, as long as Britt doesn’t mind.”

Puck nods and cracks a smile, but makes a mental note to dial back the comments nonetheless. Plenty of other things to tease Santana with, anyway.

“I just mean assholes like Coleman or just the fucking Salazar ad in general. I’m sick of it.”

Puck can’t help but wonder. “Have there been other guys like Coleman?”

“No one as persistent as him,” Santana scoffs. “Most guys aren’t ballsy or stupid enough to actually say those things to my face, let alone think they can get away with laying a finger on me. And normally I wouldn’t be bothered with just the looks I get or a comment here or there, but…”

She trails off and Puck, feeling confident enough in the realization Santana’s honesty has given him, finishes for her. “Sometimes it gets too much.”

Santana’s surprised by his words but nods nonetheless. “Yeah. And it won’t exactly help when word gets out about this whole mess. Fucking Jewfro JBI will find a way to twist it, I’m sure.”

Puck wants to reassure her but he knows Santana’s right. He can’t pretend to know what she feels like but he does promise to be there for her, as soon as his suspension is over. The whole Glee Club will be, and maybe that’s not much but it is something.

“Would you really have let Figgins expel you? Would you have told them the truth if I hadn’t spoken up?”

Santana’s voice is soft but the question hangs heavy between them.

“I wouldn’t have brought you into it.”

It’s not a direct answer but they both know the implication. When Puck looks at Santana, she’s staring up at him with wide eyes and more adoration in her gaze than she ever had while they were together.

“That’s…” Santana begins, shaking her slightly and looking away before she continues. “That’s kind of stupid of you.”

Puck chuckles at that. “Yeah, well, it’s not like people wouldn’t have believed that I beat up a sophomore for no reason. Most people already think I’m the biggest Lima loser here.”

He shrugs but he can’t deny the bitterness that sneaks into his voice and the way his jaw clenches.

There’s a moment of silence before Santana speaks.

“And who cares what the fuckers think, huh?”

Puck doesn’t get to ruminate on that. They get called back into the office not long after for Figgins to summarize and make it clear what’s gonna happen. Coleman gets kicked off the rugby team in addition to his month-long suspension and detention with none other than Sue Sylvester, so Puck figures that’s as much retribution as they’re gonna get.

He says his goodbyes to Santana in the parking lot and they make their ways to separate cars this time around. But just as Puck is about to hop in and shut his door, Santana jogs up to his car.

“Hey, Puck,” he looks up, waiting for Santana to continue. She hesitates and there’s so much flashing across her face that Puck figures he doesn’t need to hear the words. They’ve already had the biggest heart-to-heart of their acquaintance, so when Santana concludes with just one word, it’s more than enough.

“Thanks.”

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like both Puck and Santana are characters who very much care about what people think of them, like most popular students do, and they both have a tendency to play into people’s worst expectations of them. So in this fic, I tried to take that as something they have in common, especially considering their s3 stories. Pucktana were never meant to last as a couple lol but I think they had potential as friends so I'm glad I got to explore that a bit.
> 
> Puck is certainly a divisive character and I'm considering a more pleasant version of him here, one who is perhaps a little clueless but protective of his friends and needs help finding his own self-worth. It's totally understandable if someone doesn’t feel comfortable with the character. Even if we separate the character from the actor, there are many questionable things about him. In any case, I do like the version of Puck who grows to be a better person and wants to look out for others in his own way. If only the show was willing to explore his relationship with Santana beyond the shallow on-and-off dating they had at the beginning.


End file.
